Tensile Strength Of The Soul
by Person With Many Aliases
Summary: There were once three children. One looked at the ground and hated the world. One looked at the stars and hated herself. One looked forward and hated her past. Then one day, they looked at each other.
1. Above the Darkness and the Shame

_RWBY _series property of Rooster Teeth.

Original characters and concepts property of author "Person With Many Aliases"

A/N: This is more of an piece to present a design. I haven't been able to build a narrative good for her yet, but I couldn't let her go without showing her off a little. So it's probably a bit patronizing. Some of the concepting is also reliant personal interpretation, which obviously means it will be canon noncompliant in about immediately. C'est la vie.

* * *

_In between sessions, when every muscle screamed in anguish from the practice, and the sword remained on the floor from where it was dropped, the exhausted child asked._

"_Master?"_

"_Hm."_

"_You're the strongest in the world, right?"_

"_Hm…"_

_From where he sat, he rubbed his chin, considering his answer._

"_Why do you think I'm the strongest?"_

"Well…"

"_Sorry, that's not the right question I should ask. Rather, by what quality do you define if something is 'the strongest'?"_

_The child sat there, and thought. There was a certain clarity achieved, while the body of the student was weary and battered, the state furthest from "strong", while looking on at the seated, casual shape of the master, who looked unmovable and unbreakable._

_The child fell upon an answer._

"_Someone who believes in himself. You're the strongest to me because you're confident. You've fought larger, better armored enemies, and every time, they always fell back in fear while you kept fighting. No matter how strong something looks, you're stronger because of your belief."_

_He laughed, and readjusted the sheathed blade where it lay beside him._

"_That's an insightful answer for someone your age. I'm impressed."_

_The child's face glowed from the praise._

"_But if strength is determined by belief, then I would be the weakest by comparison."_

_The young student blinked, and then frowned, "That's not true. You've defeated everyone who's fought you. There's no better proof of your strength, master." _

"_A lack of defeat doesn't preclude an eternity of victory, either."_

"_Then, master, who can outdo even you?"_

_The master adjusted himself in his seat._

"_I haven't seen her in a while, but if she's the same as I last saw her, then she's certainly on a level beyond me."_

"_How? Why? What can she do that you can't? Where does her confidence come from?"_

_The child was wracked with confusion, set off by the earlier admission of the man. The child wanted to believe he was an unstoppable figure, one who hung the stars and the moon without effort. A figure akin to a god in its unassailable perfection._

"_Far from it, her strength is drawn from her lack of confidence."_

"_W-what?"_

"_You say that strength is a matter of belief. That's true. But if your belief consumes you, your self assured strength is only a measure of your arrogance. You stop growing. That's when someone arrives who is just a little stronger, tougher, or faster, and cuts you down, and you won't understand how."_

"_What about this girl then? How can she be strong if she doesn't believe in herself?"_

"_She's always thinking. Always pondering the meaning of her life, and the limit of her abilities," the master answered, "She never accepted the skill she already has. She always thinks she's incomplete, and practices and practices without end, never satisfied."_

"_She sounds really unhappy."_

"_She's pathetic," The man snapped suddenly. It jarred the young follower, "She's selfish, self absorbed, and uncommitted. All she cares about is enlightening herself, like a hermit. But she__** is**__ stronger than me."_

_The master turned to his student._

"_Blake, strength without a cause is meaningless. As long as we live in this world and we have the power to make it better, that's what we should apply ourselves to doing, not just wasting our time improving ourselves just for the sake of improvement."_

"_I understand, master."_

_He seemed pleased to hear the ready response, but seemed to have one extra thought in mind._

"…_All the same, if you ever meet this woman, avoid fighting her at all costs. No one can beat her. She's the saddest, most pitiful swordsman in the world, who has no idea what she can accomplish. One day, she'll meet God himself and kill Him, and she'll walk on, crying about how much further she has to go."_

* * *

Vale, and by extension Beacon academy, had the good luck of being settled in a temperate region of Vytal. Besides that, the city was built into a bay, next to a massive body of water. Between the perennially even weather and a natural massive heatsink, even on the hottest of days, Vale never became muggy or exhausting. The instant you stepped into the shade, the heat of the sun instantly disappeared. It was a picturesque landscape all around, with blue skies and white clouds, blue waters, and brightly hued flora.

However, the further south you went, the drier it became. Go far enough and Vytal looked almost like another world. A dry and cracked badland sparsely filled with brush and stone, and the insane creatures that found a home there, human included. The sun here was blood red and without mercy, pouring its heat and light without end, with no water to absorb the heat, and no cloud to block the light.

So you could understand where Team RWBY was coming from when they finally arrived here after taking an airship from nice, cool, pleasant Vale to arid and downtrodden Bolide, the furthest south one could go while still connected to a basic transportation network, including air travel and buses.

It wasn't even their final destination.

"Weiss? I know you don't like this weather, but grinding your teeth can become a bad habit…"

"_When I get back to Beacon…"_

A dainty porcelain hand turned into a fist and tried crush a hole in the table.

As for Blake Belladonna, she kept her eyes on her book, and decided her fearless leader, seated next to Weiss, was the most appropriate person for keeping the resident heiress from accidentally killing herself from the sheer stress of leaving her comfort zone. As for the black-clad girl, she leaned back in her rickety steel chair, one arm over the back, legs crossed, and book raised to her face. A shop in the area actually had an unabridged Stanton edition of Anna Hastur's play, _The King In Yellow_, a favorite she hadn't been able to find in years.

The three of them were seated in the train station, conveniently one of the few public spaces in Bolide that had a roof, waiting for their connection further south. The Station had fever dreams of being a major transport hub in the region, and did everything it could in its budget to make itself a modern structure, with grand spaces to invite shops and large halls to contain a constant stream of waiting passengers. The reality, however, was that the facility was just two stories of lifeless concrete, housing empty stalls, bad ventilation with a few open windows doing their job, a kitschy souvenir shop and an understaffed drinks bar where three huntresses occupied a table for lack of anything better to do, besides listen to the generic pop hits bouncing out of the speakers set up in the vicinity of the bar.

Weiss was flush with the temperature, elegant skin boiling over with rushing blood and sweat as it tried to dump as much heat as possible at cost of the fencer's meticulously well kept appearance. She hated it as much as she hated the glare and the dust, and the general fact she was here at all. Ruby didn't show as adverse a reaction to the heat, but still had the collar of her dress opened to expose her neck to as much air as possible, and had been wiping the sweat on her forehead repeatedly with the sleeve of her outfit, an act that had been slowly irritating Weiss for its lack of etiquette (or hygiene), though she was doing everything humanly possible to keep a lid on it.

As for Blake, it was only years of practicing a poker face and her bow hiding the fact her cat ears had all but wilted against the top of her skull, that she only _looked_ unaffected, while she could feel the heat floating uncomfortably above her skin.

"I can't believe she _tricked _us… I can't believe she tricked _you_!" Weiss muttered, "How could you let Velvet sweet talk you into trading missions?"

"Well, it was Velvet's teammate, really…" Ruby lamely justified, "She told me they had some relatives in that direction they wanted to visit! She sounded really grateful!"

The choice of missions the four teams received had been equivalent of a mid-term. A test to see how they would function on a long term contract. Four directions for four teams, and nothing was known otherwise until the lots were drawn on who was going where.

"And you believed her?" Weiss said, glaring, "Ugh, I don't care. I hope they all catch pneumonia or something up in the north… I shouldn't have expected better for a faunus to control a team of crazies…"

Blake looked over the top of her book for a second to reproach her white clad teammate with a sharp look and her name.

"_Weiss._"

The fencer's eyes widened for a second, before she looked away, glumly, "…Sorry."

"Apology accepted," Blake said softly, and dropped the matter as quickly. Weiss had been working hard to expand her views in the past year, and Blake was grateful to her for that. But it was still easy for the Schnee to fall back onto pinning all the blame on a nearby faunus when she was particularly stressed.

"Come on, team! We gotta _think positive_ and be _proactive_! We… We can review our mission briefing and come up with strategies!"

"Hm. So that's where Jaune's leadership manuals have been disappearing to," Blake concluded, before returning to Carcosa's downfall.

Now Weiss' ruddy face was no longer alone. Ruby spluttered, trying and failing to even verbalize an explanation. The Schnee meanwhile, sighed, intervening.

"Ruby, as great as your suggestions are, we've already been over the briefing a dozen times since we left for Bolide. All we've gotten out of them are rumors and hearsay. So three bordering towns have cut communication. That could mean anything. Maybe they're suffering a power outage."

"But it also said there was a massive increase in Grimm sightings in the area."

"Only sightings. Everybody who's talked about it didn't even have a scratch to show. I bet most of them were drunk and ran away from their own shadows."

"But it's still suspicious when the facts are taken together."

"…Yes. Yes it is," Weiss admitted, "But I still think this mission is a waste of our time. Don't expect anything worthwhile, Ruby! We're just chasing a rumor. The only reason why Ozpin gave us these missions is because they're long distance, not because they're important."

Ruby looked particularly despondent at Weiss' claims. She clearly didn't like the idea of treating the mission as a wild goose chase only worthwhile for its grades.

Suffice to say, the heat of the region was exhausting the patience of team RWBY.

Conveniently, the only thing worse than the heat was the company.

The loud bragging screeched through the air above the girls' heads.

"I don't care what anyone else here is saying, I'm glad I signed on for this job! I can't wait to fuck up some Grimm! Empty towns? It'll be like a fucking all day country fair, no ticket needed!"

"And _we're _the ones getting paid!"

"Boosh!"

Blake was pretty sure the eye rolling around the table was unanimous. Poking her sight over the top of her play, the black-clad girl could see between Ruby and Weiss to the other side of the bar, where a number of tables were occupied by men (and women, but mostly men), short of hair but long on armor plating and weaponry, and even longer in their braggadocio. People all claiming to be Huntsmen or Huntresses when they were really just local toughs hoping for easy money.

Sadly, most people couldn't tell the difference between trained professionals and opportunistic sellswords. The local municipal authority had panicked when initial contact with the distant settlements disappeared overnight, along with the reports of Grimm activity. Sure, they filed a proper emergency response that was quickly rushed to Beacon, but at the same time, they also opened up a bounty claim. Not just that, but the worst type in practice. Hastily approved, with no clear target and no real limitation. All it said was that there would be payments by proof of kill. Whoever was good with a sword or gun was welcome to partake in the "reclamation" of Hieronymus, Rodin's Peak, and New Milton, when the first reasonable step was to do some actual _recon_ first.

Now the train station was filled two bit mercenaries, all ready to pour into Hieronymus, guns blazing and swords swinging. The loudest of them was an ex-military type named Hicks, who regularly proclaimed he graduated from the army of the "state of the art ultimate badasses", and was quite filled with both alcohol and guns.

"See those kids? They're supposed to be the "pros" from Beacon. When there's a Grimm emergency, they send out a kids on a _school assignment_. Watch as it turns out to be those White Fang fucks. I swear to God, anything we see with a tail out there-"

Blake sighed quietly. This was going to end well.

"Guess who got driiinks!" A familiar voice serenaded as their last teammate sauntered over to their table, arms cradling more bottled drinks than what was necessary. At this point, it seemed the only person who didn't seem to mind the temperature or the crowd was Yang Xiao Long. Even though she sweating heavily, she basked in the heat and light. Unlike the other three, she also had a natural skill with gatherings. She could play with the leers and the catcalls, returning her own snappy remarks on the fly and dancing around the groups she could tell only talked a good game, up until she returned, dropping the drinks that her teammates gratefully grabbed for, taking long swallows of the chilled drinks.

"Thanks, sis," Ruby sighed in relief.

"Nothing but the best for my little Spice Girls!"

That elicited a labored groan from Weiss, who put a hand into her face in exasperation, "Ugh. Don't you start."

"What's your problem?" Yang asked, eyebrow cocked.

"She's still upset that Velvet's team convinced Ruby to trade directions," Blake muttered from behind her book.

The blonde nodded in understanding, as she took a seat.

"I see… Well, think about it this way. Juniper has to take a sea route, so I'm sure they'll have _tons_ of fun looking after Jaune. Vel's team are gonna freeze their butts off in the north, and Cardinal's poking around in the woods. Us? We get to ride a train and check out a few ghost stories. If anything, we got the best deal!"

"If I don't die of hyperthermia first."

"You better get a drink, then, _Schnee Engel," _Yang said, grinning cheekily. Weiss glared.

Blake followed her partner's advice, at least, as she closed her book halfway through act two to pick up a bottle of cold water. It was only another hour until the chartered transport arrived. As long as nothing happened, all they had to do was loiter and ignore the crowds until then, then they would get a cabin all to themselves. With _air conditioning._

Something then happened. Rather, someone.

A new figure passed through the entrance way of the bar, and the team could literally feel the atmosphere shift around them. The person that arrived was alien to the crowds for three specific reasons.

First was the silence. Most who entered the bar, even the huntresses, all came with noise, shuffling, bantering, bragging, and complaining. They and all the other supposed hunters that were occupying this refreshment area were all busy, all interacting. But the one who entered was solemn, seemingly unnoticing of the commotion about her. Second was the color. Everyone else in the room had been touched by the dirt and dust outside, smeared onto their color coordinated mixtures burly browns and tans, blacks or white on blues. She however, was bone white, an eye drawing absence of color in the room. White cargo pants strapped to her waist, festooned with bulging pockets, knees reinforced with bolted leather, white button shirt, sleeves short so her arms were bare. A harness was fastened on, shoulder straps going down both sides of her torso to support the central mechanism wrapped around her waist. The waist unit supported a mechanical stabilizer arm that remained folded up on her left side. However, a long package was fixed to the other end of the armature, but its form could not be determined as it was tightly wrapped in white cloth.

What wasn't white was her head, drawing all eyes to the third reason. A placid face of a young woman framed by long red hair, tied behind her head in a low pony tail. It framed her purple eyes, with pupils shaped as horizontal rectangles. Emerging from the skin of her exposed forehead, rising up in perfect parallel were a pair of slim horns that tapered off into sharp points.

_Faunus._ The word on everyone's tongue.

The noise around the bar dropped a few decibels, as they watched this interloper arrive. Quiet and immaculate and alien to the point of drawing attention. It was as if a ghost had descended upon them. Walking through the conversing bodies, coalescing slowly onto a stool at the counter, putting white gloved hands on the polished wood, and saying, "A glass of milk, please."

"…Wait, excuse me miss, did you just ask for milk?"

"Yes."

The bartender, a wizened middle aged man, gave a hard, questioning stare at the Faunus woman, who looked back calmly, before shrugging and moving to the refrigerator at the side of the counter.

"Hey! Barkeep! I thought this bar didn't allow pets!" A raucous voice shot at the woman's back.

"She probably drinks it out of a plastic bowl!" Another comment followed, eliciting a loud barrage of laughter in turn.

Ruby watched Blake's grip around her bottle tighten, Weiss looked on, worried about an ensuing commotion. Under the table, Yang's heavy palm wrapped itself around Blake's other hand, all balled up in a fist starting to shake atop her lap.

"Don't. She can take care of herself," The blonde whispered quickly.

Blake shut her eyes, free hand still gripping her drink, sighed again.

By then, the woman's drink had arrived, though followed shortly by three men. Hicks, that ever burly, buzz-cut, rippling example of masculinity motioned for two of his friends to rise from their seats and follow him with a "Hey, check this out."

When the glass of milk was placed on the counter, the faunus woman began to reach for it, before a larger hand plucked up the drink. She turned to follow it to see Hicks swallowing the milk with one long gulp, "Ah, that hit the spot."

"…That was mine."

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" The broader man said, smug.

There were some dark chuckles, and the faunus' eyes flicked back and forth for a second, noticing that besides Hicks, her position at the bar had been hemmed in with his other two colleagues. It wasn't entirely clear, though, whether the fact made any impression on her, as she turned back to the bartender.

"Another glass, please. Put it on this man's tab."

The empty glass was replaced by a fresh serving, and was just as summarily taken away by Hicks before the woman could drink it. She turned her head slowly to look at him.

"May I help you?"

"Well, Lamb Chop, when you rolled in me and my boys, Drebin and Walsh here, thought it was kinda fuckin' rude that a faunus didn't take the time to greet her betters," Hicks said, nodding towards the other two, a dark skinned man with a short mohawk, and a Caucasian with a beard.

The woman turned away, staring off into the distance, "I apologize then, but I am just passing through. I am not worth greeting nor being greeted by."

Blake's ears were still keen, hidden as they were, and could pick up everything. She fought back an angered growl until it was better masked. The whole situation was disgusting. She wasn't sure what was worse. The men who saw a faunus as justification for harassment, or the faunus who were so beaten down by life they just passively took the abuse hurled by them. The old parts of Blake railed at both parties. For the villainy, for the cowardice.

_Fight. Shout. Scream. Do something! You're still a human being!_

Hick was chuckling as he seemed to recognize something, "You know, now that you're up close, I think I like what I see…"

Yang's grip tightened even further to keep Blake in place as she all but nearly hissed in rage as she watched the men press in closer, Hicks' hands pressing aggressively into the woman's waist and thigh. She didn't even react.

"Firm body, and some great tits. My type of woman. Best thing is you don't talk back. The best faunus are the ones who know their place. How about it, Bo-Peep? Why don't you keep me and the boys company?"

"Yeah, we got all the milk you want with us," Walsh leered, predatory grin almost taking up his whole face.

"Hey, Hicks, if you screw a sheep, wouldn't that be bestiality?" Drebin asked disparagingly.

"With a faunus, it don't matter!" Hicks jibed back, sending laughter above the woman's head.

Blake's glare was trading furiously with Ruby's helpless waves, their thoughts made clear on their faces.

_I am going to bury them. Don't you dare stop me._

_It's not like I would, but not here! Just wait!_

_I am not going to sit here and just watch this depravity…!_

The horned woman had reached into one of the pockets on her cargo pants and produced a few coins which she dropped onto the counter next to the empty glasses.

"Keep the change, bartender. If you men will excuse me."

Languidly peeling off the stool, she made moves towards the front entrance of the drinks bar when Hicks brushed past to stand in her way again, his two friends at her back. His face had moved from an expression of smugness to something darker, irate at the casual way he was ignored.

"Hey, bitch. You didn't answer my question. If you're a good girl, you say something."

The conversations around them tapered off as eyes turned towards the confrontation. Meanwhile, she sized him up again.

"My answer is that I will count to five. If you and your associates don't return to your table by then, I will punch you."

Ruby exchanged more looks, wincing, and realizing: _This is going to get ugly, and it's going to be in here. Full of people and easily reachable furniture._

"Oh-oh, y-you're gonna punch me!" Hicks gasped, pointing to himself, "Well, I guess I better…"

"-Two. Three-"

The way the faunus kept just ignoring his responses finally got under his skin, as he frowned, and grabbed the collar of her shirt with a thick hand, spitting, "You got a lot of nerve for a goddamn sheep-Kllrrggggh!"

"Klrgh" came from Hick's mouth and eyes bulging when he felt the faunus' comparatively miniscule fist plunging deep through his layers of load bearing vest to bury itself into his diaphragm. The force of the blow sent the man collapsing over top her arm, and a sick splashing sound followed as two glasses worth of yet to be digest milk and bile escaped from his throat.

Blake stared. Her team stared. Everyone stared.

The woman blinked, and took a step forward. With a twist of her waist, her fist in Hicks thrust forward, sending the folded man off her arm and through the air, out the bar, and crashing into the train station's main terminal.

Everyone watched Hicks, who wordlessly rolled on the ground outside, clutching his stomach, before turning back for an instant to look at the woman who suddenly and effortlessly changed everything. Without missing a beat, she had already dropped her hand and began walking again.

Drebin and Walsh didn't stand for it.

"**You bitch!"**

Drebin tackled her from behind, arms wrapping around the faunus' smallish frame and sending them both crashing onto the floor outside, Walsh following close behind.

Yang scoffed, "I _seriously_ did not expect the first blow to go like that."

Ruby was already bolting out of her seat, "Come on! We got to help!"

"Help _who?_" Weiss couldn't help muttering.

"Whoever's in danger!"

Even as they were speaking, the other patrons of the bar were also rising from their seats, their blood warming at the thought of seeing combat. Mutters and gleeful shouts of "Fight!" echoed, as Bolide's mercs began to walk out to watch.

Blake Belladonna meanwhile, watched, as she followed her teammates, mind cycling back through the last few seconds.

A lifeless figure releasing a sudden burst of power, and then receding… not responding, then exploding…

_I have to be wary until I understand why she acts like that._

But determining the whys would have to wait.

Outside, a horned faunus slid across the linoleum floor of the Bolide Station, the larger man on straddling her back snarling.

"You're gonna pay for hitting Hicks…!"

She didn't say a thing while Drebin's hand wrapped around itself one of her horns, hoisting her up and spinning her around to lay one of his fists into her face. She played along until she got to her feet, when her hand lanced up to strike Drebin's elbow at that sweet spot where the bone could not protect the nerve.

"Gah!"

The mercenary's hand involuntarily jerked and loosened, letting the faunus close in and lay two punches, one after another into Drebin's head with enough force to bowl him over. From behind, she could hear something akin to Hicks screaming like an injured predator, and she twisted her head to see that he had indeed almost mostly recovered from the last blow, and was charging at her, arms clawing for her neck. She backed away just the minimal amount of distance so the fingers swung through empty air. Hicks continued to claw and punch away, sputtering at the faunus who just stepped away just enough, tilted her head back just enough to dodge. Then she leaned back just enough to counter balance for the heel of her shoe to jump forward from beyond Hicks' reach and slam into his chest with enough force to send him to the ground, back of his head cracking against the floor.

"Watch out!"

A girl's cry caught her attention, and she looked towards the crowd that stood at the door of the bar. Her eyes rapidly flicked across them, trying to determine who of them warned her. Among the uniform mass, four colors reached out, attached to four faces that matched the age of the voice, supported by an uncharacteristic worry for a faunus etched on their features as they watched the unfolding fight.

_Red, White, Black, Yellow-_

Which one of them said it? What were they looking at?

"You little-!"

Oh yes, Walsh. She should have remembered him. The faunus shifted her gaze to see the final, bearded man charging towards her, his hands gripping a slightly curving saber that was drawn close to his body, about to thrust out into her. She didn't even make a full turn to face him when the two bodies collided, gray steel protruding out the other side of the woman's torso.

A wave of sharp gasps rippled through the audience, realizing the full implications of what had happened. Bad blood was one thing, a brawl another, but to escalate to…

Blake stared at the duo for a second before sighing in relief.

The faunus woman pulled her left arm to the side, wrenching Walsh with it. The arm holding the sword had stabbed through front end of the clothed parcel mounted at the woman's side at last minute, and had been harmlessly redirected to the side. Now his wrist was trapped inside, seemingly unable to budge, especially with the woman's hand wrapped around that end of her object.

Walsh glared at the faunus, who share no particular reaction of her own. Then she crushed her grip closed.

Everyone winced at the loud 'snap' and Walsh' scream of pain as whatever the faunus had been holding crushed his wrist, leaving a broken hand to limply drop its sword. Even then, she had not concluded, and the woman kicked Walsh as hard as she could, sending his body back while his hand was still wedged in, eliciting a second scream as the joints of his arm pulled apart and dislocated. As his hand was wrenched free, it caught onto the parcel's fabric, tearing the end off to fall to the floor along with Walsh.

The last mercenary choked on pain as he gathered himself to his knees, propping himself on his one working arm.

"I'm gonna kill you! Goddamn faunus! You're dead! You think you can just walk all over us!? I'm gonna fix my arm and we'll hunt you down and roast you over a fucking spit!"

The woman looked down at the beaten mercenary, judging the situation. Then she reached to her hip. One hand grasped the mysterious package and drew it in front of her, while it remained in place thanks to the stabilizer arm it was attached to. Where the fabric had torn and given way, one could now see two long black tabs, the obvious source of Walsh's broken wrist. The other hand slowly curled around one of them and pulled.

For everyone else watching, it was a mild surprise.

For Blake Belladonna, it was an utter horror as she watched the history of her life loop around in a single instant.

The woman slowly withdrew a long blade, the tab having been its handle, without decoration, and without a guard. Merely a way to hold a brilliant red blade, straight spined and the color of blood.

The world around Blake dissolved as she stared at what she had hoped to never see again.

_Flashing, swinging, cutting, murdering. The blood red testament of her dreams that were delusions._

_Master's sword… Who is she!? Where did she get it!?_

"You're dead… you're dead…! Stuck up little-"

Walsh stopped talking when he began to remember his relative position to his opponent. He, with one disabled arm and no weapon, was looking at the woman who smashed his limb and now held a formidable sword in her hand. Who was now beginning to pace forward.

He began backpedaling, both from where he had been sitting, and what he had been saying.

"H-Hey… lady, let's calm down… I was kidding!" He tried to laugh, "It was a joke! N-no harm, no foul…!"

"You made the decision to draw your weapon on me," she responded, matter of fact, "as did you make the decision to attack me with it. In your mind, in your heart, you had decided 'I will kill this person', and aimed purely and truthfully."

She stood above him, both hands on her sword.

"As such, you forfeited the right to object to being shown equal measure, in all things."

"Wait! Please!"

In that moment, three things happened. The first was that the horned faunus raised her red blade and swung down at Walsh. The second, she picked up a second too late varying cries of "Blake?", "Blake, what are you-", and "Blake, wait!"

Third, her intended blow was intercepted when a girl in black darted in. The woman's sword slammed into the flat of a gray and black cleaver she had pulled off her back and held before her.

(Hm… The design didn't seem appropriate for this child. It wasn't just a cleaver, she concluded.)

"Oh. Are you an associate of this man?" The woman asked.

"Hardly," Blake grunted and felt the heel of one of her feet shift back a few inches as the red blade continued to push.

"Then may you please move out of the way? I was concluding something."

"Let them go. They can't hurt you any more."

"It's more accurate to say 'they can't hurt me _right now_'," The woman corrected, "With today's medical procedures, they could easily recover in a day or two. What will happen then? They will certainly try to take their revenge upon me then. If not then, then in the future. They will always desire to kill me for what I did to them."

"You don't know that," Blake said, glaring.

"It seems only one of us heard what that man said. Or is it you just don't understand what it means when someone says 'I'll kill you', and really means it?"

_("-then you're no use to me alive!")_

The fragment of memory danced by Blake's ears unbidden, and she flinched. It was all the woman needed for one of her white gloved hands to dart forward and grab the back of Blake's Gambol Shroud, pushing it down for her other to slide her blade past, the back of the red sword pressing into the huntress' neck in a instant. Blake swallowed.

"Please move aside."

The warning was clear.

"_Let Blake go."_

The woman's eyes flicked to the side, and saw the remaining children had pushed themselves out of the crowd and stood in a line before the blade-locked stand off. In the center was the blonde, furiously staring, and with her metal bracelets converted into full on bracers ringed with shotgun shells. The other two, Red and White, had not yet actually drawn their weapons, but the way they were ducked slightly, they were tensed up for anything.

"I'm only going to ask once," Yang warned. Her hair verged on flaring.

"Miss? We don't want to fight," Ruby said right after, trying to mediate, "Can you, uh… put your sword down… please…?"

Blake watched the faunus' eyes move from her to her teammates more than a few times, and judging how to proceed from the deadlock she was in, whether to engage or disengage.

_My god, she would fight us if she wants to._

A spike of uncharacteristic hatred washed through Blake, directed towards the faunus woman, who would so casually just consider hurting others…

"Don't you dare think about it…!" She could hear herself snarl. She couldn't even remember the last time she made that voice. It was like an old friend coming home.

The woman's head turned, and purple sheep eyes stayed fixed on her, curiously working her gaze over the black clad huntress' face.

"Or was it… you were the one who told others you were going to kill them."

Blake didn't say anything, but her glare couldn't be any stronger. Before anything else could happen, a loud voice called through the train station, while a group of uniformed men approached.

"Police! All armed citizens stand down!"

On cue, the hand on the Gambol Shroud and the sword at Blake's neck instantly receded. The huntress gasped for air and watched the red blade that could have only belonged to her master coolly withdraw into the half shredded wrapping, next to a black brother hilt.

_Wait, two?_

"Perhaps in better circumstances, next time. Good evening."

The horned woman twisted neatly on one heel and hopped into the crowd, somehow twisting past the many bodies who all looked and followed, too shocked and confused to bother apprehending her. After all, what was their involvement in all this?

Blake, however, was involved.

"Wait… Wait! Where are you going!?"

Blake threw herself into the crowd, while possibly hearing Yang behind her shouting, "Stop running off by yourself! Gah!"

She wasn't listening, though. She could see a hint of white disappearing through the service entrance at the back of the bar, and she chased after as fast as she could, vaulting over the counter and racing into the cramped hallways, always just catching a glimpse of the escaping figure as it rounded another corner. One hallway eventually turned into a exit passage, an emergency exit at its end that had just clicked shut. Blake ran as hard as she could, barreling through the door.

She exited into a dry, open lot, with nothing in it. Above, the heat of the sun burned, and she panted, frustrated and confused.

"Blake!"

Yang slammed through the emergency exit a few seconds after, slowing to a stop next to the black huntress, panting just the slightest.

"You really need to warn us when you're going to do this. I had to leave Ruby with the police. They probably think she and Weiss were the ones who mashed up those goons."

Her partner looked back, slightly guilty.

"Sorry. I couldn't let her just walk away like that."

"You see where she went?"

"No. I don't even know how she disappeared.."

"Ugh," Yang snorted, hands on her hips, "What a psycho. She better hope she doesn't run into us again."

She tried to laugh it off, but she could see Blake still staring at the lot, like she hoped she could see a magic trail to lead her to the missing sheep.

The blonde put a hand on Blake's shoulder, "Come on, partner. We need to rescue my sister from the cops. And Weiss."

"…Right."

Blake wanted to leave it alone, write it off. Just the heat. Just an accident. Just a bad meeting.

But it was her master's sword. It couldn't be any other. The question beckoned, how it had wound up in the hands of this one person.

_Who are you…?_

Blake's yellow eyes narrowed at the dry world, asking.

* * *

_She walked side by side with her master down the hall of the hotel. The rugs were sodden, the walls were smeared, and the bodies separated._

_She wasn't sure where to look anymore._

"_M-Master… I… feel sick… why… why did we… these people…?"_

_He knelt down, grasping her by the shoulders while she shook from adrenaline and horror._

"_We did this because these people deserved it. They pack us into boxes and work us until we die, and then write us off as resources. Expenses. We're just data to them that they pour through while they sat in this hotel, drinking wine and sleeping with women. We taught them a lesson tonight. Tonight, we reminded them we're living people, who can't be taken lightly."_

"_But…this isn't what we used to…"_

"_Now is the time for action. Remember what I told you about strength without causes?"_

_It was hard to breath. All she could smell was copper. She nodded slightly._

_He held her close, pressing her face into his jacket, and he whispered close as he picked her up and walked._

"_We're knights killing dragons. Farmers killing giants. Our fight to be freed from these ruthless human rules… is a page in a story of history. We're making history, Blake."_

_In the folds of the master's clothes, smelling the scent of living people again, the child felt secure once more. Guided by the red of her master, she knew that, no matter what happened, at the end of the day, they were fighting evil. Enacting justice._

_Making the world a better place._

_She had the power to make the world a better place._


	2. Above the Torture and the Pain

A/N: Believe it or not, this was going to be even longer than it was already. Writing certain motivations in this chapter is tough. Sometimes I wonder if it even rang true with the conclusion of this season. Well, that's what the review button is for.

* * *

_Three years. Three magnificent years of carnage. They came to fear them. Fear her._

_She was a knight. She was a giant killer. Dragons burned in their hordes of gold. Armies of giants were felled._

_It became easier. The world did not get better._

_The battles began to merge together. It became harder to celebrate with every victory, or cry from their losses. What was a win for them? Or a loss? All she could really recall was the smell of iron and the spray of copper. More and more often, sleep escaped her. In the shadows, she would lie in a cot, and listen to her heartbeat, and she intrinsically knew that she was enjoying the sound of something she had taken from so many others._

_A change came over her master as well. An anger began to boil in him, slowly but surely as he became more frustrated. How many more board members? How many more factories? How much more private security? Why was the message not getting through? Their enemies did not shrink back, but recollected themselves and threw themselves at oppressing their brethren, crushing anyone they decided to be "threatening"._

_So they stubbornly kept on. Because of how easy it was now, the child's master decided to look for greater… challenges._

_Perhaps they would understand they were not to be trifled with when their carnage was greater._

_No, they simply were not afraid enough._

* * *

"OH MY GOOOOOD! THIS IS SOOO COOOL! HELLOOO WOOOORLD!"

"Oh, for the love of… Ruby, it's just a _train_ _ride!_"

"WHAT WAS THAT, WEISS? I CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER THE SOUND OF THE AWESOMENESS OF SITTING ON TOP OF A CABIN GOING A HUNDRED MILES PER HOOOOUUUURR!"

It was rather self explanatory that best route to Hieronymus and the rest of the silenced towns was by rail.

Out in the wastes, it simply wasn't worthwhile to try driving down uneven, dusty roads. As such, all long distance travel was handled by the double track system that linked up the frontier region with Bolide-And-So-On. Most of the time, the double tracks translated to allowing two lines constantly passing each other in whatever needed shuttling that day. However, now that the frontier had gone dark, Bolide's governors pulled out all the stops and acquired something more appropriate than some passenger train to protect their army of mercenaries, plus Hunter recon team.

The ATC-0096 was the armored transport to end all armored transports, with its engine and cars massive enough to require sitting on both sets of tracks. All cabins were designed to withstand cannon fire, the cargo hold could lug tanks, air jets and walkers without trying, and the engine had enough power to plough through a mountain, they makers bragged. Now, this convoy of flatbeds and hangars was plunging into the desert, indeed carrying an army as it was meant to.

Blake felt she was far too intimately familiar with this model of train. Sitting inside one, at a desk mounted on a wall, reading _The King In Yellow_ again, with a hot cup of tea with a lemon slice in it… the juxtaposition was already making her mildly nauseous. At the least she was thankful she and her team didn't have to carve out sleeping space further down in the hangar bays. She didn't think she could stand _that_ little trip down memory lane.

Weiss couldn't stand the thought of stewing in her dried sweat overnight, much less three days, two nights. When the train had pulled in, and the Bolide mercenaries piled on and settled their sleeping bags and lamps in between their weapons and crates of supplies, the heiress had stormed to the front of the train, dragging along a very confused Ruby, followed by a bemused Yang and Blake. One or two cars behind the main engine, Blake wasn't sure, they arrived at a hatch locked by a keypad.

"This cabin was made to hold VIPs. But given how often these trains are used to just shuttle Dust and weapons, more often than not they just keep this part locked up. Luckily, they designed these keypads with the same backdoor combination."

"And, uh, we know this code?" Ruby asked, somewhat dumbstruck.

Weiss finished punching in the last of a long set of numbers, causing the latches on the steel entrance to recede, allowing it to swing aside. She looked back, smirking.

"Who do you think makes these trains?"

For a militarized armored transport, the VIP cabin bordered on heinously opulent, with the entire space of the car being transformed into a personal living quarters. It was essentially a two story house on wheels. Granted, everything was covered in a layer of dust and a miasma of stale air, the shelves were empty, and the wall mounted display didn't connect to anything, but it had lighting, it had furniture, it had a kitchen stocked with some nearly out of date teabags, it had full sized beds and cushioned seating, and most importantly, a bathroom, where Weiss immediately threw all her clothes off and jumped into the shower stall to douse herself before even considering turning in for the night.

It also had, as Ruby discovered quickly, an emergency hatch on the ceiling that led outside. The next morning, the young leader immediately ignored the "emergency" part in favor of "there's a hatch that lets you sit on top of the train while it's going full speed, how cool is that" part.

"SIS! COME ON UP! YOU CAN SEE FOR MILES UP HERE!"

"Coming!"

"Ugh, Yang, don't encourage her!" Weiss groused, hands at her hips like an upset parent.

Yang, half way up the emergency ladder, gave her a very dull stare, "She's a kid, Weiss. Kids get excited over new things. It's typical. She'll get bored eventually, and she'll come back down."

"Even… even if it is…!"

Blake had to question how exactly the universe came to be where a 15 year old girl could sit atop a high speed train for thrills, and her friends' reactions was that this was _typical_ behavior.

"Well, off to enjoy the fresh breeze blowing through my hair-later!"

The faunus huntress took a moment to sip her tea, while listening to her partner clamber up the ladder to join her sister.

"Those two really are sisters, seriously… as for you, I half thought you would be up there in a second."

"Hm?"

Blake turned to look at the remaining occupant of their cabin, who leaned up against the ladder for lack of anything better to do and had addressed her in turn.

"Ever since we stepped foot on this train, you've been a bit more tense. I can tell," Weiss explained, "I thought it was just maybe that you just didn't like being cooped up, but like I said, you're still down here. I take it you're just not a fan of trains in general?"

_No, Weiss. I love trains. Just the last time I was on one, I was busy fighting for my life against an army of AK-130 Spookies. It tends to dampen my enthusiasm._

"The cat in me prefers stable footing," Blake said off handedly, shrugging, "I'll leave the running atop moving vehicles to the thrill seekers."

"Well… hm…"

"…Yeah."

They remained in place for about a minute, listening to the dull clatter of train tracks through the walls of their quarters. Weiss gave up and groaned.

"Look, put down the book. Let's just go for a walk."

Blake turned back from her book again, "A walk?"

"I'll let those two have their fun, but I'm not going to spend the rest of this day with the two of us just sitting around. We're going to do reconnaissance on the layout of this train, and stretch our legs."

"I thought your family built these trains. You knew the password to this room," Blake challenged, one eyebrow cocked.

Weiss snorted, while sliding her Myrtenaster into place by her side, "Yes, but there's no telling what those buffoons behind us have done to it. For all I know, they've built another pub in one of the hangars because they can't stand a day without buying alcohol. I'd rather find out now before it's too late and they accidentally burn something down doing something stupid."

Blake laughed for a second, shaking her head, "Alright, heiress, let's do an inspection of your prized train."

Weiss returned a smirk of her own as Blake shut her book and collected her Gambol Shroud that shared the table with it.

Well, her reading could take a break. She'd tire it out if she read it too many times at once.

* * *

Despite the Schnee's worst fear of the train being turned into an impromptu funfair on wheels, for the most part it seemed all the various muscle were too bored to do much besides lounge on whatever space they could, or play whatever little card, dice, and knife games they could between themselves, muttering and chattering, and waiting impatiently to arrive at Hieronymus. Most of them had moved onto the flat beds, trying to enjoy the morning air, tepid as it was, but not overpoweringly bleak like it would be in noontime. The two huntresses had meanwhile mostly roved downwards a few cars. Given the size and width of even one, it quickly turned out that trying to concentrate on scoping out the entire train would be more than their enthusiasm would allow. Weiss and Blake settled for ambling about, talking and sight seeing to pass the time.

"I hope Jaune's team is doing alright."

"Well, according to Yang, they're having a little fishing trip," Weiss answered, with a casual eye roll, "Did you hear anything worse?"

"I heard their destination was Port Valenda."

"…Wait, isn't that place pretty much a pirate haven?"

"Yep. Pirates everywhere."

"Ugh, now _I'm_ worried. After this is all over, we're all seriously going to have to trade stories for who had the worse assignment-"

Weiss, who had been speaking more to herself, had finally noticed she might have in fact been speaking only to herself as she noticed she was walking by herself. Looking back she saw her teammate stock still, having stopped walking a few feet back.

"…Blake?" Weiss asked, a hint of worry creeping into her voice.

Blake had all the appearance of a dumbstruck fish as she stared onward, and Weiss, seeing the connection, followed her gaze.

Further down the flatbed car was the faunus woman from yesterday, sitting on a stack of crates that were tied down and covered in netting. She was leaned up against one particularly tall container, one leg tucked up on the crate she sat on, while the other dangled off the edge. The machine arm had been folded back so the woman's half exposed parcel was behind her back, black hilts protruding. No doubt because of the events prior, everyone had given her wide berth, leaving a generous swath of space around her seat. With the way her gloved hands lay in her lap, and how she cast a far away gaze off the train, it was almost too easy to imagine her as some lay about bohemian, too busy daydreaming to bother with the world more than necessary. Of course, that was hardly the truth.

Blake stood, in complete surprise at how quickly she found the object of her upset curiosity. It really was her-

**"It's you!"**

She jolted back to reality at the shrill accusation, and watched everyone in the vicinity turn to look at Weiss, who stomped over with a pointed finger. Trust the snow angel to cut to the heart of the matter.

The faunus woman rotated her head to see the heiress, her dark companion only a few steps behind.

"Good morning," She said.

"Don't you 'good morning' me like you've forgotten that ruckus you caused yesterday! Besides that, you put a sword to my teammate!" Weiss lectured angrily, "Not to mention, running away so conveniently when the police arrived, and they questioned me and my partner as if _we_ were the prime suspects! Do you know how humiliating that was? Just wait till my father hears of this… '_What's this I hear of my daughter trying to murder someone in the boondocks…?_' Ggh…"

The woman drew a hand across her mouth in thought, "I see… I apologize for the distress caused."

"Don't pretend you're suddenly sorry, either!" Weiss snarled.

"But I am. There are so many cues I cannot detect, so I can only follow typical responses. I may not sound sorry, but I am trying to be."

The heiress was still not so convinced, "If you're so apologetic… _then you should be in prison!_"

Blake watched her teammate draw her rapier in a single flourish, and pointed meaningfully at the seated faunus in white. Predictably, the sight of a naked weapon caused the bystanders to turn, half amused, and half enthused to see something exciting happen.

"Weiss," Blake warned, half weary out of her friend's predictable vindictiveness, "Please be careful. This isn't like back then with Sun."

Weiss sniffed, "I know. But this is a matter of personal pride… _and_ moral obligation as a huntress! There's no way I'll let an escaped felon go when she's in front of me."

The faunus' eyes traced the length of Myrtenaster, before murmuring.

"You are free to attempt to catch me, but please put away your sword, huntress. You are insulting its purpose. It is not needed here."

"It's 'purpose'?" Weiss couldn't help but retort disbelievingly, "You have a sword pointed at you and you're worried about it's 'purpose'?"

"That there is one pointed at me is a cause for concern. Do you understand what the thing in your hand is for?"

"It's for being used to _teach you a lesson-!_"

Weiss slid forward in one smooth motion, arm extending Myrtenaster's point. Blake could see she was obviously intending to jab it partway into either the 'felon's arm or leg, useful for keeping a target immobilized with an exaggeratedly painful wound.

Unfortunately the Schnee, in her fury, had underestimated her target. Even in the awkward sitting posture she was in, the woman instantly flung herself off the crate, kicking off the one foot she had pulled up and bent to her stomach. She twisted in the air, and landed heavily on both feet as Weiss stabbed at the unoccupied netting, before backing away a wide step to avoid the reactionary swing the fencer used to cover her exposed side as she returned to a ready position, and began firing an array of thrusts.

A small part of Blake that was not entirely focused on the proceedings had to admit being impressed with Weiss' form. An heiress of a massive conglomerate, trained by tutors in a "polite style of fighting", was not one you'd consider material for the random and unpredictable battlefield of Grimm hunting. But watching Weiss' aggressive control of the narrow train car, with her constant forward shuffle, seeing her wrist and forearm make minute, near unreadable adjustments that made any one attack seamlessly transform into another, that turned into a series of yet another unending strikes, Blake knew that Weiss in battle was worth more than the Grimm Bolide was paying for, or the cheap mercenaries on the train they were paying.

This flatbed was the ideal arena for Weiss. It was a rectangle that was nothing more than an expansion of the "fencer's line", forcing her opponent to dance to the white clad huntress' momentum of forwards or backwards. It appeared even the woman was taking this engagement more seriously than she did with the three thugs, arms raised cautiously so that her covered hands could redirect any stabs that came too close. Nonetheless, Weiss was unable to leave a mark on her quarry, who stepped back out of range.

"You don't understand, huntress. Everything in this world is dignified by a purpose that justifies their existence."

The woman's gaze was hard and judging on Weiss, "If you want to teach, use a pointer. If you wish to cut, use a knife. What do you think your rapier, a sword, is for?"

"That's hardly an important point right now-!" The heiress deflected, slightly offended.

"It is to me. Your strikes have no will behind them. Why have you developed your skills? Why do you carry a sword? Did you spend your years of practice so you could use your blade as a way to entertain yourself when you're bored?"

Weiss scoffed, glaring, "I don't need a lecture from you!"

Throwing herself forward again, Weiss led her blade from behind. This time, though, the faunus woman took a measured step forward to meet her. As the rapier drew in, arming for her right bicep, the woman brought the back of her other hand up to let it slide upwards, redirecting the thrust towards her face.

Blake nor Weiss didn't have time to even gasp, but a jolt of horror shot up through their spines as the disabling blow became misdirected.

At the last second, the woman twisted her body to the side, face turning just enough so Myrtenaster's upward thrust screeched against the front of one her horns, while the fore edge moved to the inner curve of the other. Afterwards, she rotated her head further until woman's faunus horns applied enough leverage to trap Weiss' thin blade across the two.

The heiress stared, dumbfounded for a second, before trying to pull back her weapon. But given how the faunus had angled her head, the blade remained wedged in the keratin.

"Not again…!" Weiss cursed to herself.

The woman gave pause long enough to look at her struggling opponent, before flipping in place, head going under, one foot after another swinging out into the air. Sideways as she was, blade trapped on her head, the sword's grip on the other end began to rotate in Weiss' hand painfully. Try as valiantly as she could, the huntress was unable to keep her forearm and wrist from twisting any further. Thus, Weiss' blade was wrenched free with a yelp of pain, while its owner, off balance from the sudden move, wound up falling gracelessly to one knee.

The woman completed her revolution, and idly raised one hand to catch the rapier as it fell off those surprisingly tactical protrusions of hers.

"Weiss!" Blake yelled out of concern, leaping forward to stand just behind her fallen comrade, her hand immediately darting over her shoulder to grasp for Gambol Shroud, though not yet drawing, as she waited to see the woman's next move, now armed as she was with Weiss' own weapon.

"Hm… Dust conducting rapier, commonly used by Schnee personnel, but there's been drastic additional work done…"

Luckily, it seemed nothing terrible was about to happen, as the woman was more busy running a finger across the flat of the sword, examining it, "tempered steel, polished… engravings… decorative, but used to indicate when Dust is being injected… Cartridge system… inspired by an assault bardiche, but it appears this cylinder was custom built… and…"

She lay the sword atop two outstretched fingers, placing them on the flat just in front of the basket hilt. The length of the sword remained straight and immobile atop the finger tips.

"Even with the additions, it is perfectly balanced."

Weiss had returned to her feet by then, rubbing her wrist and palm, and the sourest stare she could muster, "Give that_ back_."

The two fingers flicked up wards, letting the rapier make a revolution in the air until the faunus caught it loosely with her right hand. She walked towards Weiss.

Whatever sign of wariness the heiress could have had was mostly buried by her annoyance, as she stood her ground and kept her frown up while the faunus came to a stop before her, Myrtenaster at her side. As for Blake, she kept her position at Weiss' back, ready for anything.

The woman raised the point. Blake's grip tightened. Weiss flinched just the slightest, both of them recalling the last time the woman was armed.

Slowly, the horned woman slid Weiss' sword back into its resting place by her left hip, and stepped back.

"This weapon is a work of art," the faunus murmured, "Art shouldn't be frivolously swung around."

"S-So you have some artistic appreciation. Don't think you can get off the hook just by saying nice things!" Weiss warned, but it seemed to ring hollow to the three of them. The embarrassment of being disarmed to was enough to dissuade her from trying harder than she had in apprehending her 'felon'. It was just not worth fighting over at the time.

It wasn't ideal, but the situation still had defused itself. Blake sighed in relief and dropped her hand.

"I'm more surprised you're even capable of restraint," Blake tersely shot.

"I practice," The faunus admitted.

At that moment, a crimson blur leapt out from behind the two members of RWBY, slamming down besides Weiss, followed by a secondary impact as the large point of a scythe stabbed into the steel floor of the train car. Ruby Rose, hood darkening her face dramatically, and cloak flapping in the draft of the train's movement, pointed her weapon.

"**STOP RIGHT THERE, CRIMINAL**- Oh, am I late?"

She made the mistake of posing her question to her partner, who immediately made her wither under a rather acidic glare.

"…Yes. **You are**."

"Sorry…! I came as soon as I heard you scream!"

"_Scream…_? I did not scream!"

"You did! That's why I came to save you! I heard this "It's yoouuu" all the way from the front of the train-"

"You are exaggerating!"

Blake sighed as the tension basically went as flat as a balloon without air, and was sure the faunus woman in front of her did her equivalent of a sigh as she blinked at the supposedly professional Grimm hunters break down into yet another petty argument.

Yang bounded down far less dramatically, signified by the sound of her boots stamping onto the train car and stopping by Blake.

"Still lagging behind, Yang?" The dark huntress remarked to the side, keeping her eyes on the current

"Pfft, you try and keep up when your sister and partner both move at the speed of light."

She took a look at the party opposite of the now fully collected hunting team.

"So, the killer lamb is here, too," Yang smirked, "Tell me she's done something worth punching her over."

"Weiss picked a fight. She disarmed her using her face."

"Eh, I could spin that into something, I'm sure."

"You couldn't even start if you wanted to. The mood is gone," Blake blandly responded while nodding towards Ruby and Weiss, who had forgotten why they were even here in the first place."

"-And you shower too long!"

"It's _my_ train cabin! I can use it however I wish!"

"…Okay, I think the heat got to them," Yang said, shrugging.

In front of the team, the faunus woman half shifted, beginning to depart from what was clearly no longer any of her concern. Ruby and Weiss, catching the leaving figure out of the corner of their eye, switched attention and simultaneously reached out for her.

"W-wait!"

"Hold it right there!"

They shot a look at each other.

The faunus turned back, "Yes?"

Ruby spoke up first, "Look, I think we all got off on the wrong foot… Uh… so…"

She swallowed, "H-have some tea with us!"

Blake didn't verbalize her shock, but she was sure Ruby felt the enormous '_What_' directed at her back. At the very least, she could see Weiss and Yang's rather bug eyed stare at the sudden suggestion.

The faunus' eyes flicked up and down the diminutive scythe user, trying to discern an ulterior motive for the offer, "Really?"

"Sure! I mean, if we all get an opportunity to talk it out, maybe we can understand each other better!"

The woman tilted her head, hand on her chin, considering, "I would be affable to a talk, but it appears your associates have other thoughts in mind."

"Huh? What do you mean-"

Weiss' arm wrapped around Ruby's neck, cutting her speech off into a choking struggle. A rather rictus smile was plastered on her face.

"Excuse me? I think I need to talk with my partner. Be right back!"

"Of course."

Ruby was dragged back a few feet before Weiss arm swung her back around so she was face to face with her team, who brought their heads together in a huddle, fierce whispers following.

"Ruby, what are you thinking!?" Weiss hissed.

"I'm sure yesterday was just a big misunderstanding!" Ruby tried to explain.

Yang brow beat her sister, "Misunderstanding? What's there to misunderstand about a girl who nearly killed an unarmed man and tried to poke holes in our ninja-cat?"

"You told me to try and meet more people!" Said sister argued.

"And you decide to start with _her_?"

"I'm sure she's a good person at heart! Besides, she looks lonely…"

Ruby turned to look back behind her, and Blake followed her gaze. There she stood in the center of the flatbed, still watching them whisper. She had her attention wholly focused on them, and Blake understood it was because the woman simply had nothing better to do, no other thing in her day to occupy her time. Had she and Weiss not arrived, she would have sat on that crate all day, just because.

The thought was slightly depressing.

"She's not some pet, Ruby!" Weiss chided harshly, "She's dangerous!"

"But-"

"Blake, please talk sense for us." Weiss sighed, turning her gaze.

At this point, there were many different opinions that the dark huntress could have sided with. First and foremost was that Weiss and Yang were right. No one had a better judgment of the inherent danger the horned woman posed than the teammate who had been directly threatened by her. Ruby was playing with an inordinate amount of fire just to try and prove her capacity for friendliness.

At the same time, though, Blake had very good reasons to not to agree with that. Reasons the others had yet to fully divine: Master's sword. It came back to that nagging question that the faunus-in-hiding knew she was in a perfect opportunity to pursue. Why did she have it? How did she get it? How did she fall into all this? Why now? Why has her Master's sword reappeared before her?

Beyond that, though, a small idealistic part of Blake still existed, and that part resonated with Ruby's rather mournful prognosis of the faunus woman.

She was in fact, alone. After the events of the day prior, the faunus had been given wide berth, with any other person in the vicinity only giving her baleful stares that she never paid attention to. She was feared and isolated, a microcosm of that pitiful world the White Fang dreamed of, where faunus were given the illusion of safety and equality by the threat of violence. What sort of world was that, where it takes a history of bloodshed just to buy a modicum of basic survival, where the only connection the faunus and humans could share was a lack of connection, sealing each other off in a bubble because 'that was how it was going to be'?

Blake wanted to prove them wrong. Even if it took one person, even if it took this one woman, a small part of Blake wanted to reach out.

"Sorry. I'm with Ruby with this one."

Her leader's face glistened with glee, "Really!?"

"_What?_" Weiss choked. Yang nodded.

"Yeah, what she said. Seriously, Blake, what the hell? You know what she can do."

"I know. But we also know how she works. I'd rather keep her with us than with those mercs with hair triggers everywhere else. If it keeps her from starting another fight, I'm willing to overlook yesterday. Besides, I do want to know her more before I jump to conclusions. She's dangerous, but so are we."

Blake helpfully didn't actually explain any of the real reasons she needed to keep an eye on the faunus woman.

Ruby of course, was ecstatic, "Well, it's two votes in favor of the leader's decision! What about my favorite sister and my favorite partner? _Hmmm?_"

"If you bat your eyelashes again, I'm going to snap freeze them off while you sleep."

"…Fine…"

"…But, as your partner, I suppose I must trust you sometimes… but I'm only doing this because I agree with Blake! I'd rather keep her where I can see her!" Weiss quickly amended, twice.

"You're the best partner ever!"

"Gggh! Get off me!"

Yang watched her sister wrap her arms around the heiress, and turned to look at her own partner, "You sure you want to do this, Blake?"

"…Yeah, I'm sure."

By then, Ruby had already waved over at the woman, "Heeey! We all agreed! Come over!"

The faunus woman pushed her wrapped package to hang behind her, nodding, "Very well."

"'We all agreed'? Tch, what am I? A peanut gallery?" Yang snorted, shaking her head.

* * *

Ruby, as usual in her infinite wisdom, had failed to anticipate the general awkwardness of sitting around in their train cabin, having drinks with Blake's attacker. It wasn't just that she was just shy of being a full blown enemy, it just didn't help that she was so totally reticent.

The woman sat in front of a round table situated more in the designated "living area" of the rolling house. She sat rather stiffly, finger curled around the generic white porcelain mug that contained a soaking tea bag. In what was possibly a display of courtesy, she had removed her weapons. The harness that hung from her torso had been unclasped and currently sat upright on the floor next to the chair, while the bound swords lay on the ground. The light of the desert day poured through the windows with reinforced metal blinds, painting her and a whole swath of the room in alternating lines of orangey-blood red and shadow.

She stared at the tea for the longest time, before moving the cup to her lips.

"How's the tea?"

"Peppermint. It is sufficient."

"Oh. Yeah."

That pretty much summed up the exchange with Ruby and the faunus on opposite sides of the table, from how Blake saw it. As for the rest of team RWBY, they were drinking their tea with all the enthusiasm and casual friendliness one had when one was doing a waltz in a minefield. Weiss and Yang smiled, their weapons never really removed, held their cups in a full grip with all the willing intention to throw them at the guest if something went belly up, and casually just happened to be standing up, leaning against bits of furniture, ready to move into action around their team leader.

Blake wasn't drinking her tea, again. She simply dropped herself back to where she had been when the day began, reading her book (except this time, really not), while having her seat turned towards Ruby and her new friend, and generally playing it off cool, while she could feel her nerves stretching out with the tension. She had to be patient though. The last thing the cat faunus wanted to do was give away her interest in the woman's swords, and thus her possible relationship to them.

Silence ensued.

"So, uh… we never got your name…!" Ruby exclaimed, before pointing to herself, "I'm Ruby. That's my sister Yang-"

"Yo."

"-my team partner, Weiss-"

"…Hi."

"-And Yang's partner, Blake."

Yang's partner looked up over the top of her book, and saw the woman staring intently at her. Then again, it seemed like anything she looked at was always with her full attention.

"A pleasure," The woman said.

"The pleasure is all mine," Blake answered by reflex, and turned back to her book to break eye contact.

"We're all training to become huntresses at Beacon academy, up in Vale. And you are… I mean, if you want to say! It'd be nice to know your name…?" Ruby asked, like she was guessing whether knowing someone's name was courteous or not.

The woman met Ruby's gaze for a second, before turning to look out the window while quietly answering.

"Evve. Spelled with two 'v's. Currently unemployed."

She said this with the same nominal importance one placed on describing the weather.

Ruby frowned, trying to figure something out, "You don't have a job? Is that why you're here? For the Grimm bounties?"

"A reward of one hundred lien for every head of a beowolf presented to a Bolide governmental representative. One hundred and fifty for a boarbatusk. Three hundred for an ursa. One thousand for a death stalker or widow maker of sufficient size. In a situation where the bounty is measured to be larger than average, extra considerations will be made…" Evve recited.

"You're just another one those bounty hunters outside, then," Weiss spoke up, unable to help but challenge sheep faunus' prior claim.

"I admit, the pay rate is agreeable," Evve acceded, "But I do not travel in search of money. I simply heard summons to battle, and believed it was an opportunity to evaluate my current skill level."

"Your 'skills', huh?" Blake repeated direly, "Are you talking about getting better at killing people?"

"Blake…!" Ruby tried to hiss at her while waving at the black huntress to withdraw her statement. She ignored her, though. It was a question that needed to be pressed.

Evve's gaze drifted over to Blake, before returning to her tea.

"Yesterday's events gave you all an erroneous impression of me. I do not kill out of pleasure, or out of some way of establishing dominance. I even know how to engage in combat non-lethally. But I practice the way of the sword. To do so means carrying the responsibility of using the sword for its intended purpose. Like I said yesterday, the mercenary hated me enough to make our fight one to the death, so I made the decision to treat it as one."

"Well, maybe that makes sense for you," Yang argued, "But the guy already had his arm broken. He was finished."

Evve stared at the face in her tea, "A battlefield may be large or small, and may come without warning. But when one arrives, it means all mercy is exhausted. There are no judges. No rules of engagement. Only the hope of concluding at all."

"But-"

"Once, a general led his army against the faunus, outnumbering them three to one, and ambushed them in the night. It wasn't fair, but he wanted to end the war as soon as possible. The faunus in turn, took advantage of their night vision to fight back. Yesterday, three armed men said they would come back and hurt me, one day, and I was willing to attack my enemy that moment to make sure it wouldn't happen. I do not draw my sword often, but when I do, it is because I feel I must."

The thrum of the train engine only a few cars ahead, and the clatter of the train tracks filled the room like the roar of the ocean tide.

"You take this really seriously, don't you?" Ruby said, almost at a whisper. For some reason that shouldn't have concerned Blake, but did, the girl in red had a hint of overwhelmed awe in her voice.

"The sword is my soul."

Now that was overdone. Blake resigned to raising the book over her eyes to roll them discretely. Then it came: the moment she had been waiting for, the reason she had agreed with Ruby to host the woman.

Ruby, against all odds, seemed to be more excited, "If it's not too much trouble, then… would it be alright if I could see your sword?"

The sword. Blake had to know. But it was too obvious to ask by herself. A person who had Master's sword must had known enough of him personally to receive it. Blake couldn't risk giving away her own relationship, especially given how intertwined it had been with the White Fang. Luckily, she had a friend who was so enthused with weapon engineering in general she would eventually ask the questions on her behalf. It was slightly underhanded, but Blake reasoned that she did nothing to manipulate Ruby. Her interests and Blake's just happened to intersect at a convenient time.

"She just said she doesn't bandy her sword for no reason, you dunce!" Weiss snapped.

"It's true," Evve agreed, "It is not a toy to be passed about."

"I understand! I promise I'll treat it seriously! I just really want to see this weapon you care about so much! I promise I'll be really careful! Sis, tell her I'll be careful!" Ruby begged, palms pressed together in supplication.

Yang looked slightly unsure, but shrugged, backing her up, "Well, yeah… she's kinda a major nerd over weapons. She takes weapons in general pretty seriously, so if she's saying she's serious, she's, uh, pretty serious."

Weiss just gave an incredulous scoff that Blake knew how to interpret as "Those two _really_ are sisters."

The horned woman looked at Ruby for a moment, before wordlessly putting aside her cup of tea and reaching down to pull the discarded harness up into her lap. Manipulating the stabilizer arm, Evve held up the two hilts so that she could slowly draw the one she favored, showing its blood crimson body. Resting the handle between her palm and thumb, she ceremonially swept the fingers of her other hand across the flat of the sword until it came to a stop two thirds down the length, and presented it to the girl across the table.

"I am trusting you."

Ruby very gently copied the woman's motions as the sword traded hands, the girls' bare fingers caressing the blade. For Blake, it was almost a transformation, seeing her team leader treat the sword with reverence as a weapon, peering over it like it were glass rather than steel, never once the thought of swinging it for a test crossing her mind. To see the youngest member of their team, normally excitable and frantic, turn a serene gaze on Evve's sword.

Yang was quite accurate. Her sister was indeed a weapon nerd.

"It's beautiful. Did you make this?"

"No. It is an inheritance passed down by my family. The blade originates from the sixteenth century. Its fittings and sheath were developed in the last sixty years. I received it as it was from my father."

Was Evve lying? She looked too straightforward to just fabricate like that. Perhaps not outright. She never asked about the history of the blade, and her Master never saw a reason to explain. She might have easily just heard the story somehow from him, or had it appraised by some expert and made up the story of her father herself… what to believe?

"Sixteenth…?" Ruby asked herself, "But this color only comes when there's an infusion of Dust. Dust injection was discovered by Schnee Dust only a while back... Wait, are you telling me that this has Dust _folded_ into it?"

"Oh, you know the name of the technique? Yes, I've been told it the sword was smithed in that style."

Ruby was almost beside herself in shock and excitement, "Ohmygod… ohmygod…! Weiss! Sis! T-this sword was made with Dust folding!"

Blank stares met her.

"Dust folding. _Dust folding!_" She repeated, like it would explain everything.

Weiss brushed the comment off, "It looks like any other Dust injected weapon to me."

"Kid, we have a _can-opener_ the same color at home because I thought painting it would make it work three times better. I'm not gonna get it until you tell us," Yang bluntly answered.

"Dust folding was how people used to make weapons back during the war against the Grimm! In the beginning smiths tried to use Dust to make up for low smelting temperatures and try and burn out impurities in steel, but eventually they went further and started trying to merge the two substances. The best ones, the master works, the composition was so even you couldn't tell the difference between the Dust and the steel! These days, those sabers you see all the time? They just have Dust dumped into them in a factory line and they call it a day. The composition isn't even, and there's all sorts of open pockets that aren't even noticed. It's like… the difference between a family car and sports car!"

"Okay, okay, Sis, I get it. It's a really good piece," Yang helpfully translated.

"You are exaggerating a little," Evve said, not quite shrugging, but her tone hinted at a lack of belief, "Dust folding was just most efficient method of the time, just like injection is now. When the technique dropped out of common use, the remaining artisans had no deadline. They could experiment as long as they needed to, creating master works at the pinnacle of their skill. The every day weapons of the past were just as mass produced and inelegant as they are today. One day, if Dust injection becomes outmoded, there will be artisans trying to discovering the full potential of the method."

"I got to hold a sword made before Dust injection…!" Ruby was gushing. Evve took it as a sign to gently pry the blade from the girl's hands and return it before her enthusiasm overwhelmed her restraint, who in turn, looked a bit annoyed, "This weapon is an _antique_! You need to take care of it better!"

"I treat it as it deserves. My sword has life, living as a sword. It is well made, but it is by no means priceless. The Vale region, for one, produced a number of higher quality master works in its time."

"Like what?"

"I have heard of at least one sword that is quite potent. I do not know its actual name, but I know it is translated to "yellow death", or similar. I admit, of the few vanities I still have, one is that I desire to find this sword, or its current possessor."

"It'd be nice if I could see it, too…" Ruby agreed,"…Yours has a name, right? A weapon like yours _needs_ a name!"

Blake wished she could answer for Ruby, rather than egg on her curiosity. For once it would have been a small measure of benefit out of everything Master had subjected her to, among them learning the weapon were a pair known as "Wilt" and "Blush". But in the end, it was an inconsequential detail compared to the rest of the mysteries surrounding the faunus.

Evve had nodded then, "It does. It is called Wither. The scabbard is named Flourish."

…_What?_

Ruby was already speaking on, over Blake's growing confusion, "The sheath has a name?"

"Yes. It is a tradition that even if the blade is refitted, its housing will be called Flourish."

_Wait, what!? She has to be lying… why… why else would the name be different? Why would she lie about a name?_

How could it be a lie, though? What was there to gain from faking a name only to replace with something that sounded essentially the same? Wither and Flourish?

Blake fought to keep her face the same, but her fingers dug into the new book, trying to drain her shock and confusion into the pages. Her eyes jumped up and down from Ruby's discussion with her guest and the ink on the paper, trying in vain to be more subtle.

"Wither and Flourish… Those are interesting names," The crimson girl said, rather agreeably.

"In following the way of the blade, I have been challenged with finding answers to certain riddles in life. One of them is the name of my weapon."

"It's a riddle? How?"

"It is a paradox. A sword is used for destruction, truly. Being called Wither is appropriate. But the sheath known as Flourish…"

Evve looked out the window again, gaze wistful and distant, "…to "give life"? How does a sword give life when it is hidden away? Why should a sword give life? What is the purpose of a sword if it is not used?"

The woman blinked, before shaking her head slightly and returning her gaze to Ruby, "When I answer this question, I will have taken one step further in the understanding of my place in the world. Alas, for all my travels, the answer escapes me. My spirit is still immature."

"Wow. That's deep," Ruby said (eliciting another suffering sigh from Weiss, coincidentally) before asking, "Well, what about the other sword you have with you?"

The two turned to look at Evve's harness, where, besides Wither that had been returned to its original place, it had its doppelganger hilt still unearthed.

Evve shook her head, "I apologize, but I do not have the right to show you that one. I am merely holding it in custody for another. But I assure you, you would have seen little new from what you saw of Wither and Flourish."

So this woman really was carrying Wilt and Blush, and admitted it wasn't hers.

Blake would have kept listening, but she felt Yang's heavy hand fall on her shoulder again. Looking up, she saw her smiling softly.

"You're shivering, Blake."

For a second, the faunus huntress was confused until she finally felt the tension running up and down her back. Had she been so anxious and absorbed with trying to eavesdrop on Evve that she didn't notices her own body quaking in anticipation and the faintest trace of adrenaline? She thought she had more self control that than!

"It's… it's nothing," She quickly excused.

Yang shrugged before turning to Ruby, "Hey, kiddo, I think the A/C's turned up too much. Blake and I are gonna step outside and soak up some rays."

Blake's head jerked back in surprise at Yang's excuse and impromptu wrangling, while Ruby frowned in concern, "You sure?"

"Yeah, don't worry, we're just stepping out for a second. You keep chatting the cotton ball up."

"Cotton does not come from sheep."

"…Yeah, I knew that. Come on, Blake. I need some sun."

Yang clearly wanted to talk. As her partner, all Blake could do was sigh to herself and close the book she had failed to read, and follow the bright blonde out through the entrance hatch.

Outside wasn't much to write home about. The two of them stood on the narrow metal ledge, used to move from one train car to the next. Here, Blake leaned against the wall beside the hatch, coolly watching the dry world pass them by with the red sun over head. Yang also watched, but had moved closer to the edge, to place both hands on the rippling dark chain link railing.

"So, you wanna talk about it?" Yang decided to preempt.

Blake's eyes narrowed just slightly. She wasn't in the mood for her friend to start playing analyst.

"Talk about what?" She decided to delay for a second, putting the ball back in Yang's court.

The fiery pugilist turned to look back, "Blake, I'm your partner. I may not know everything about you, but I know enough about how you act. You only play 'quiet bookworm' when you're trying to get things done without people knowing, and you've been waiting for Ruby to ask all the questions you wanted to hear. Evve gets under your skin, but you also want to learn something from her. What is it?"

Blake leaned her head back, staring into the yellow sky, smirking, "I keep forgetting how perceptive you can be at times."

"Ruby used to hide when she was hurting on the inside," Yang admitted, "I grew up having to take care of her. The practice never really leaves you. Don't tell Ruby I told you, though."

"I won't. I think you did a good job, looking after her."

Yang smiled, "Thanks. Now, you wanna tell me what's with Evve? Or is it her weapon?"

Blake's folded arms tightened in on themselves, "Alright. You know about what I was before I came to Beacon, right?"

The blonde took a few cautious glances around to make sure they were alone before answering, "The… um… "ex-civil rights" group, shall we say?"

"Yeah. Let's call them that for now. When I was with them… I wasn't just a ground pounder."

"What were you then?"

Blake considered ways to answer.

_She could smell the fear on him, rolling off in waves, while he twisted around, screaming, cursing, firing into the darkness. The security detail had been dealt with, just lumps on the ground now. She dropped from above, aiming for the heart by going through his back…_

"I don't really want to go into detail. Let's just say I had a lot of one on one training."

"…Okay?"

"I had a Master back then. He was… he was really important to me. You could say that besides training me, he pretty much raised me during that time I worked with them."

"Alright. How does she fall into all this, then?" Yang asked, frowning in deep thought.

"She has… She _might_ have the weapon that my Master used."

"The one she has in 'custody'? So you think she might be one of _those _guys?"

"I don't know… she had to have been in contact with them to be able to get Master's weapon, but she doesn't seem like the type to work with them. What does it mean? Tch, I thought I finally put my past behind me when I came to Beacon, and then she appeared…"

Blake sulked while her partner tried to understand the intricacies of the situation.

"Alright, I can see why this is kinda a delicate situation. Anything you say could be automatically advertising your past, and you don't want the killer sheep to go trying to go after you in revenge for leaving their club, right? How do you think we should go about this?"

The dark huntress' lips curled into a smile for a second, listening to Yang. "We". Never for a second did Yang believe this problem wasn't something for the team as a whole to overcome. To have the aid of teammates and friends…

Blake wanted to believe that. After a year, she had thought she had finally buried her old world, and along with it, the guilt that once foamed in her stomach. The events concerning the Atlas shipment showed that if even _Weiss_ didn't care, then she could come to them with her fears and problems. But this was something new, something far more personal and far worse than just an association with the White Fang. Having her friends confront Evve meant they would also be confronting her past with Master…

If they found out…

"Yang, you nor the others don't need to do anything. Let me figure out Evve myself."

"You sure? I mean, it seems like you can barely approach her as it is. I know how to slide the questions in."

Which question?

If Evve wasn't lying, if it really was Wither and Flourish, and the _other_ was Master's weapon… how were there two sets of swords all of a sudden? If there were really true, then it wasn't just a matter of a woman who had just collected Wilt and Blush by dumb luck, like she had hoped. She was a person who had inherited, had been _entrusted_ with a weapon just like Master's… they stemmed from the same source…

How intimate had these two been? Now that she had Wilt and Blush…

Over and over, the same question was in Blake's mind: _Who was she?_

Blake had no doubts on one thing, though. She knew that Evve knew what became of Master. The question was what would happen if she found the student…?

No, it was selfish to bring her team into this. She couldn't make them shield her from this. They would come out poisoned by Blake's crimes. This was all on her.

The cat faunus shook her head, bow fluttering slightly with her, "Look, I appreciate the thought, but this matter is personal. I don't want this to bother the rest of you while we're on a mission."

Her partner was clearly unconvinced, "Blake, we're a team. We're _friends_. Anything that's bothering you _will_ bother us, mission or no. Can't you trust us?"

"I need you to trust _me_. The less you know about this, the safer all of you are."

"Safe? From what!?"

"Yang, please!" Blake pleaded. It was enough to make her partner back away, caught off guard by the rawness of the faunus' voice, "Let me have this. I've trusted you all with more than I ever have with anyone else, but you have to understand I can't let you into everything. If you knew any more about my Master, from Evve or myself… we wouldn't even be able to look at each other in the face."

It was probably the first time she ever saw Yang turn a glare on her, "You don't know that."

_No, I do._

At that, the hatch opened again, and Weiss stood halfway through, frowning. Blake found her opening, throwing her attention to the interloper.

"How's things, little princess?"

"Don't call me that," The heiress snorted, before turning her gaze, "Yang, do something about your sister. I don't know how, but she and that woman are somehow _bonding_ over weapons! It's… it's weird."

Over the fencer's shoulder, Blake could see Ruby had indeed done the impossible, first, having a running conversation with the reticent faunus, and second, surrendering possession of the Crescent Rose to the same person, who was busy testing the bolt action of the massive .50 caliber scythe, hand pulling the slide back and forth.

"It is a smooth action, but why limit yourself to hand operation? Its combat power would be increased with semi-automatic recoil."

"You're kidding! It needs to be bolt action to maintain rigidity! Imagine how fragile the shaft would be if I had to add springs or gas impingement!"

"Your weapon already has a telescoping barrel and blade. If your engineering is already this advanced, it shouldn't need traditional mechanisms."

They talked on, and Weiss gave a pointed look to Ruby's sister.

"See?"

Blake tilted her head towards the door with a wry look, "Come on, partner. It looks like Weiss needs a break."

Yang shot a dirty look.

"Don't think this is over, Blake. You think this is bigger than us? Well, remember, you're bigger than the mission," She grumbled, and stepped past Weiss, who was taken aback by the bitterness the blonde's tone. Weiss looked at Blake, searching.

"Did you two have a fight?"

The dark huntress managed to shrug nonchalantly as she followed after, "Yang just likes to be a shoulder for everyone to lean on."

Inside, Blake could see Ruby continue to babble to her sister.

"I've only been able to talk to Velvet or maybe Pyrrha about weapons like this! Can we let her stay over tonight?"

"…Uh…"

"Pleaase! You can stay over tonight, right? I think we have a sofa bed, if you want!"

Evve blinked at the smaller' girls passionate pleas.

"If your associates have no trouble with it, I would not mind spending the remainder of the evening here. But I will not be sleeping tonight."

"Really? Why?" Ruby asked, quizzically.

"I can see the moon from here."

The four girls followed Evve's gaze out through the shuttered window. Even in the afternoon, they could faintly see the shattered sphere, white and translucent against the yellow sky.

"Pale as death, before night has even fallen… it is an omen that does not bode well. My vigilance will not let me rest easy tonight."

Ruby laughed, if not with a slight hint of nervousness at Evve's causal prediction, like she was guessing the weather, "Come on, you can't lose some sleep over some superstition with the moon! Nothing's going to happen!"

* * *

It was night, and the activities across the train faded away to idle amusement while people's energy still lasted.

The other end of the train loaded was loaded up further with Dust and weaponry, some absurdly advanced. But here amidst the steel, some mercenaries found it comforting, to know they were surrounded by the products of human ingenuity.

Hicks and Drebin, with their battered pride, needed such comfort. Hicks' face was sour and upset, the sides of his head tightly bound with bandaging to treat the concussions he received the prior day. Drebin's injuries were less dramatic, but his face still carried heavy bruises from being neutralized with two mere blows.

Sitting on their sleeping bags, surrounded by lanterns they brought with them, the two played cards with much hatred. Bolide had been an opportunity for them. Not only for the money, but for a chance to impress the strangers. It was merely a matter of confidence, right? As long as you could lead by example, show no fear, and never falter, you would be an example. For one day, Hicks, Drebin, and Walsh had been the stars.

Then the sheep came and laid them out. The next day, they couldn't go anywhere without the other mercenaries snickering and cajoling them, how the big toughs were defeated by a creature only a level above a wild animal. They were now clowns, to be amused by and then forgotten when things got "serious". Not only that, Walsh had to remain behind in the hospital, and now their team was only a duo. A two man comedy act, with no place to stay except by their lonesome.

"That fucking whore," Hicks snarled, "Acting like some fucking virgin prude. She wanted it, I could see it. She didn't even fight back. Then she acts like she's too good for us."

"She's gonna pay for what she did to Walsh," Drebin agreed, throwing down a card more for the sake of throwing something.

"Goddamn faunus thinking they can do whatever they want… if I ever meet her again…"

Something in the other end of the armory car fell down. The sound of metal slapping onto metal grated through their ears. The two men twisted to look into the darkness, where the lamp light failed to penetrate, and where the steel containers and racks of weapons were consumed by forces forever more primal than the efforts of man.

Hicks and Drebin swallowed. They were alone in the train car. The cars rocked a lot. Cargo shifting or falling over mid transit was to be expected. But as the two looked into the infinite black, their paranoia fueled all sorts of ideas. There was only one way to satisfy their curiosity.

Hicks rose, picking up his rifle that had blades mounted above and below its barrel, and in the other hand, one of their lanterns.

"Cover me, Drebin."

"I got you, man," The mohawked man assured, carrying his own gun and light,

The two cautiously stepped forward, lights sweeping to carefully expose any shadow covered corner. At the end of their path, they saw the cause of the noise, a crate that had been sloppily stowed away standing up. Its securing ropes had torn, leaving it only a matter of time for it to fall over. Nothing otherwise could be seen.

The two men exhaled, though neither would ever admit it was from relief at seeing there was nothing to the infantile "scary darkness".

"Heh, what a goddamn bunch of babies we are…" Hicks spoke, as he turned around.

He saw it looming over Drebin's shoulder. Something that gave vileness to darkness, a dripping and oozing silhouette that the lamp light could not define.

It growled.

Hicks' gun leapt up as he screamed.

"_Contact rear!"_

Drebin twisted around, eyes widening at the mass, "Holy-!"

Those were his last words as the rotting fangs sank into his face.

The screaming began.

* * *

_She was summoned._

_Through the ill lit interior that was a safehouse for them, she walked until she made it to the den, full of empty shelves and boarded windows. In the center was an array of papers presided over by her master. Blue prints, photographs of the landscape, forever more. In the corner was a model of some sort of land route that moved through the mountains._

"_I've got a mission set up," Her master said, with a tone of unusual pride after three years, "It'll be simple for us, but I believe the results will speak for themselves when we succeed."_

"_What's the objective?"_

"_We'll be seizing control of an armored train in mid transit, one that will be carrying shipments of Dust to Schnee refineries. I'm aiming for the biggest actually. Intel says that a shipment is being moved by one of the personal family trains this week. It means a family member will probably be inspecting the cargo at the destination. We hit this, we'll be slapping the Schnee in the face."_

_So it would be a symbolic raid._

"_Will we be killing anyone?"_

_It was just a question. It should have been just a simple question, almost rhetorical, almost just a joke. Was there ever not going to be any killing?_

_She didn't mean it, but there was something in her voice that she accidentally let slip. Sarcasm? Dourness?_

_Weariness?_

_Her Master didn't say anything immediately as he heard her, but eventually answered her._

"_No. The security will be automated. You know how the Schnee are. They can't settle for anything less than the cold lifeless perfection of machines. If there's anything living aboard, it'll just be laborers. Not worth our time."_

_He stood up and turned to face her._

"_But Blake, this is too big to fail. When we do this mission, I need to know you're with me one hundred percent. No questions, no doubts."_

_Automated security. That was fine. That wasn't killing. It was just self defense. This was just a raid. Some harmless, but loud theft.. Nobody would be hurt this time. So, perhaps for once, she could do something worthwhile without covering the message with the wailing cries of bereaved loved ones that sometimes echoed in her ears for days, imaginary or no._

_Her answer was automatic._

"_You're my Master, as I am your shadow. Where you go, I follow without hesitation."_

_He smiled. The first smile in a long time._

_"Good."_


End file.
